(no subject)
So, today, I had a rendezvous with a gorgeous man at the Sheraton Hotel in Annapolis.
I would leave it at that, only everyone who knows me would be not at all fooled. Mr. Sheraton Hotel Man is my doctor's drug rep, and we met so that he could gift me with three weeks' worth of Humira.
That sentence took an entire minute to type, because I got up and danced a little.
Anyway, my doctor is staging a peer-to-peer interview with the craptastic folks at my insurance company. They denied a second request to increase my dosage, and...and...I needs! it.
The conversation earlier went exactly like this:
Dr. B: Remember the whole production we went through with the insurance company trying to get her on a shot a week?
Carole the wonder assistant: Ugh. Yes.
Dr. B: We're going to try again.
Carole: You couldn't still be stuck on the bridge, could you?
Kim, sheepishly: ...I love you...
Dr. B also increased my methotrexate again.
Yay for monthly liver panels.
While we're on the conversation of conversations, I want you all to know that I'm doing my part to make sure the next generation becomes a productive and well-adjusted part of society. Observe, me and the girl:
Girl, upon the untimely demise of a spider: Squishy...
Auntie Kim: Aww, baby, why'd you do that? I would have taken it outside.
Girl, serious: Because it was big and coming right for me! I don't want to be a superhero! ...unless I can be like Lusy...
Auntie Kim: Lusy? Oh! Lusy's not a superhero.
Girl, in one breath: No, but she's really smart and pretty and makes all kinds of cool things and gets to ride horses all the time and she has a furnace!
Auntie Kim: You want a furnace?
Girl, pondering: Well... A fireplace would do, I guess.
Lusy, as you [probably don't] know is one of the characters I write for, from the Ariandor campaign. The girl absolutely loves hearing about all the characters I've created, and sometimes remembers storylines I've written better than I do. I'm not sure if my partners and I have imagined truly excellent tales, or she just wants my attention; either way, I win!
I'm just doubly glad she's at the age where, in answering "Why is Gellan mad at Thaid?" something along the lines of "It's complicated," still works.
When she gets older, I might introduce her to cooperative storytelling.
Cooperative storytelling. Heh. That sounds snobby. Amy's rubbing off on me.
I leave you now with words...
As I walk the streets
or ride them,
words run out to meet me,
carrying stories on their shoulders
like misplaced orphans.
They come from every corner,
from shop windows and alleyways,
from homeless men in
cardboard boxes
and spinning rims and
corduroy jeans.
But... That's as far as I've gotten. More later.
I would leave it at that, only everyone who knows me would be not at all fooled. Mr. Sheraton Hotel Man is my doctor's drug rep, and we met so that he could gift me with three weeks' worth of Humira.
That sentence took an entire minute to type, because I got up and danced a little.
Anyway, my doctor is staging a peer-to-peer interview with the craptastic folks at my insurance company. They denied a second request to increase my dosage, and...and...I needs! it.
The conversation earlier went exactly like this:
Dr. B: Remember the whole production we went through with the insurance company trying to get her on a shot a week?
Carole the wonder assistant: Ugh. Yes.
Dr. B: We're going to try again.
Carole: You couldn't still be stuck on the bridge, could you?
Kim, sheepishly: ...I love you...
Dr. B also increased my methotrexate again.
Yay for monthly liver panels.
While we're on the conversation of conversations, I want you all to know that I'm doing my part to make sure the next generation becomes a productive and well-adjusted part of society. Observe, me and the girl:
Girl, upon the untimely demise of a spider: Squishy...
Auntie Kim: Aww, baby, why'd you do that? I would have taken it outside.
Girl, serious: Because it was big and coming right for me! I don't want to be a superhero! ...unless I can be like Lusy...
Auntie Kim: Lusy? Oh! Lusy's not a superhero.
Girl, in one breath: No, but she's really smart and pretty and makes all kinds of cool things and gets to ride horses all the time and she has a furnace!
Auntie Kim: You want a furnace?
Girl, pondering: Well... A fireplace would do, I guess.
Lusy, as you [probably don't] know is one of the characters I write for, from the Ariandor campaign. The girl absolutely loves hearing about all the characters I've created, and sometimes remembers storylines I've written better than I do. I'm not sure if my partners and I have imagined truly excellent tales, or she just wants my attention; either way, I win!
I'm just doubly glad she's at the age where, in answering "Why is Gellan mad at Thaid?" something along the lines of "It's complicated," still works.
When she gets older, I might introduce her to cooperative storytelling.
Cooperative storytelling. Heh. That sounds snobby. Amy's rubbing off on me.
I leave you now with words...
As I walk the streets
or ride them,
words run out to meet me,
carrying stories on their shoulders
like misplaced orphans.
They come from every corner,
from shop windows and alleyways,
from homeless men in
cardboard boxes
and spinning rims and
corduroy jeans.
But... That's as far as I've gotten. More later.